persuasion
by the blanket
Summary: AU. Non-massacre. SasuSaku. It was, Sakura rather thought now, those two last words—"even me"—that had sent her feet walking out of the room without her even realizing it. Was he so promiscuous? More importantly, was she really so undesirable?
1. Chapter 1

**title: **persuasion**  
****pairing: **SasuSaku; for now, anyway. Hints of other unimportant background pairs later.**  
****summary:** AU. Non-massacre. SasuSaku. It was, Sakura rather thought now, those two last words—"even me"—that had sent her feet walking out of the room without her even realizing it. Was he so promiscuous? More importantly, was she really so undesirable?**  
****for:** Iz, who asked for _Pride and Prejudice_-inspired fic. This first drabble is based off one of my favorite scenes in the book. :) I hope it's still recognizable!

**notes // warnings:** This totally reminds me of when I wrote _he said_. But I have a different plot in mind for this—perhaps predictable, but I have never claimed to be original. Also, I was focused more on attempting to recreate an 18th-Century style of writing here (LOL, thanks college for helping me out with that one). That said, _I'm sticking to short chapters_. Because otherwise, it takes forever to update, and I'm under more pressure (read: _cherry apple wine_, which I SWEAR is being written). I'm trying to keep these under 500 words, without counting my headers.

Sorry for making Sasuke talk so... for using high-falutin' language here and there (and sometimes everywhere). My excuse is that I'm aiming for a... formal tone.

Maybe now, I'll be able to write my paper.

**disclaimer:** Neither _Naruto_ nor _Pride and Prejudice _are mine; the former belongs to Masashi Kishimoto and Friends, and the latter, to...public domain, I guess. But before that, it belonged to the amazing Jane Austen. 8D

* * *

It was not, Haruno Sakura reflected later, when she was lying in the darkness of her own room, what Sasuke-kun had said, precisely—rather, it was _how _he had said it.

And how had he said it, again? Sakura remembered with unforgiving clarity the sudden rush of hurt that had suffused her when she had walked into the Hokage Tower's Administrative Office at precisely the wrong moment. Her dark-haired teammate stood in front of Iruka-sensei's desk, his body taut, and his voice more audible than he had perhaps meant it to be.

"_I'll take anyone else but Sakura—she's an adequate medic-nin, I suppose, but this mission calls for someone whose expertise lies in...other areas. I have been witness to the kunoichi classes at the Academy—the ones that they are required to go to every so often in order to perfect their talents. Sakura is lacking in every respect that matters and this particular mission is difficult enough without my having to make up for her inadequacies; in short, her skills are not nearly honed enough to tempt even _me_."_

It was, Sakura rather thought now, those two last words—"even me"—that had sent her feet walking out of the room without her even realizing it. Was he so promiscuous? And if so, what did it mean? That even she, Sakura, was not "woman" enough to appease his apparently low standards? Was she really so undesirable? And really—she was an _adequate_ medic-nin? _Just "_adequate"_? _Sakura promised herself that she would remember those words the next time he came limping into the hospital after one of his practice spars with Itachi-san or Naruto.

Unsurprisingly, it was the words that had come after, the words which cast doubt on her ability to properly use her so-called "feminine wiles" during missions, which hurt the most. He had spoken so casually, as though every word he said were mere fact, rather than opinion. Then again, Sakura thought to herself, immediately switching tacks, as it was Sasuke-kun who had said the words—and it, regrettably, was she, Sakura, who had heard them—his sentiment might as well have been labelled Truth.

As much as she tried to deny it, his opinion still meant mountains and moons to her. The distance between them—the miles, the years, the silences—had done nothing to temper her affection, had done nothing but strengthen the ardor with which she regarded him. It was disgraceful, she thought, as she hugged the pillow in her arms closer to soothe the growing ache in her chest.

After a few moments, Sakura stirred, unwilling to remain still any longer. She rose up, and sat upright, her brow still furrowed in thought, but her eyes less solemn, her ego, less bruised. She knew herself well enough to realize that she would not be able to brush Sasuke-kun's words—the sound of his rejection—out of her head simply by wishing them away, and she certainly would not expedite the process by ruminating over them. She resolved to at least attempt to take it as a learning experience. Sasuke-kun was her teammate—he was pointing out her flaws, and she should, at the very least be thankful for that. (A part of her wished that he had not insulted her femininity in the process, but that was all past now. Or it would be, she hoped, after a few days of sulking.) It was constructive criticism at its finest—_and its harshest_, her ego said sullenly—and she would take it with a grain of salt. She certainly wouldn't be asking Sasuke-kun for his opinion of her any time soon—indeed, Sakura had already decided to do what she could to avoid him (which, she reflected would not be too difficult as he hardly ever sought her out on his own accord, anyway)—but she would do what she could to make his words a motivation to do better. And anyway, who _was _Uchiha Sasuke, anyway?

_No one really_, her ego and heart lamented in tandem—_no one_ _except_ _the boy you've loved for nearly a lifetime._

Sakura suppressed a sigh, and gathered herself.

His was one opinion in a village of many people; heartthrob or not, Sasuke-kun was only one man. Teammate or no teammate, love-of-her-life or no, Sakura thought, she would do her best to put his words behind her.

Why, even Iruka-sensei who had been witness to Sakura's humiliation—more precisely, who had been Sasuke-kun's conversation partner—had looked positively aghast at the implication that she, Sakura, was anything less than a perfect match for the Uchiha's upcoming mission. Why else would Iruka-sensei have suggested her?

Almost as soon as this thought had entered her head, and bolstered her self-confidence, Sakura found herself floundering. If she were honest with herself—and Sakura nearly always was, even if, and perhaps, especially when, her ego was at stake—Iruka-sensei's good opinion, or even Genma-san's (who, only last week, had been unanimously voted the Village Bicycle) was not worth even one tenth of Sasuke-kun's.

"I am kind of pathetic," she announced to no one in particular (as no one was around to hear it). "And now I'm talking to myself. Stop talking to yourself, Sakura."

It was, she decided now, all too much. She would never be able to rest without at least indirectly addressing Sasuke-kun's affront. But _how_, she wondered.

For a few moments, Sakura sat on the edge of her bed with her favorite green throw pillow in hand, and an unwelcome chorus in her head. It was only when the sound of her doorbell filtered into her room that she remembered an appointment she had made earlier with one Yamanaka Ino. Sakura stood up and silently resolved to tell her best friend of this latest development. At the very least, hearing the episode—baring it to open air—would help desensitize her to its sting. Left untold, stuck in the hollows of her throat, Sakura knew that the wound to her pride would only fester.

At the very least, Sakura thought as she opened the door with a wry smile, Ino would be amused. It would be a bit longer before she would be able to hear—or think about it—without wincing, but telling Ino would be a step in the right direction.

Hopefully.

* * *

Clearly my plan of "less than 500 words" was FAIL. Oh well. Also, the lack of dialogue is probably going to be the norm for this piece. So...yes. :D

Any and all comments would be very much appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**title: **persuasion**  
****pairing: **SasuSaku; for now, anyway. Hints of other unimportant background pairs later.**  
****summary:** AU. Non-massacre. SasuSaku. It was, Sakura rather thought now, those two last words—"even me"—that had sent her feet walking out of the room without her even realizing it. Was he so promiscuous? More importantly, was she really so undesirable?  
**for:** Iz, who asked :D

******notes // warnings:** Thank you to everyone who left such nice comments! I was pleasantly surprised that this piece even got feedback, because there's not much dialogue and it's more introspection than anything else, but I'm incredibly grateful. I am also very happy that most of you are Austen fans, and more specifically, _Pride and Prejudice_ fans!

Also, I've never seriously written Itachi before (that I can remember). Usually, when he comes up in my stories, he's the subject of some rant, or the source of some of Sassy's Existential Angst (TM) or something. This is basically my take on what he would be like if he hadn't had to...you know...go and kill his whole family except for his uber-cute widdle baby brother. Yeah.

And Pina, will this do? It's longer, Y/Y? 8D

******disclaimer:** Neither _Naruto_ nor _Pride and Prejudice _are mine; the former belongs to Masashi Kishimoto and Friends, and the latter, to...public domain, I guess. But before that, it belonged to the amazing Jane Austen**. **

* * *

Speaking to Ino, Sakura thought, had been more taxing than therapeutic.

At the end of the recounting, her friend had been, at turns, appalled, disgusted, and then indignant. Sakura had more than appreciated the violent display of concern that accompanied Ino's reaction—for, nothing she knew of showed love more obviously—but rather dismayed by the new dent in her kitchen table, for it was her favorite piece.

_"You should have done more than just watch him insult you, Sakura! I know I taught you to be better than that—why didn't you say anything?"_

It was a question that Sakura still could not answer.

At Sakura's silence, Ino had given her a pointed look and left, still shaking her head.

Now, Sakura rose from where she had been sitting—eyeing the new addition to her kitchen table—and stretched. She would get nothing done just sitting in the darkness, and in any case, she and Ino had finished off the last of her fruit basket.

Perhaps a trip to the market would be exactly what she needed to put herself back to rights.

—

She made her way through the marketplace with leisure. It was a rare day that Sakura found herself with no place in particular to be—requesting the mini-vacation from the hospital had been a good idea—and she wanted to enjoy herself.

_Besides_, she mused, _the market is a wonderful place to lose yourself. _

She strolled past the weapon vendors, the fishmongers, the small cart with frivolous trinkets that she could not help but love absolutely. She smiled at the man as she walked by, and quietly promised herself that she would visit it before going home—at the very least, a new bauble would soothe her pride. _ It would be nice,_ she thought to herself, _to feel beautiful again._

Sakura had only just approached the fruit market when she noticed a familiar silhouette considering the Fiji apples. She smiled as she approached him, and tried not to be too bitter—_he_ was one of the last people she wanted to see when she was feeling particularly homely.

_Nonetheless_, Sakura thought, _the niceties must be observed._

"Hello, Itachi-sempai."

His response was warmer by comparison, as he inquired after her family, her health, and her general disposition. Sakura answered half-heartedly to each inquiry, and then asked about his mother and father in particular. All the while, she tried very hard not to resent Itachi for the unnatural sheen of his hair. _Maybe if _my_ hair were like that, Sasuke-kun wouldn't have—oh who am I kidding? _Sakura sighed, and tried not to show her despair.

She left one particular member of the Uchiha family conspicuously absent from her polite questions—Sakura had long-since recognized that her passive-aggressive tendencies had a way of integrating themselves most neatly into her dialogue—and wondered whether Itachi had noticed. From the way that he was eyeing her speculatively, as they made their way to the _mikan_, Sakura rather feared they had.

"My brother has also been doing quite well for himself," he began, almost cautiously. "He has been doing quite a few solo-missions in addition to the assignments that he completes with your old _genin_ team."

Clearly, Itachi was intelligent enough to realize that his _foolish_ _otouto_ was something of a tender subject to the woman with whom he was speaking. Still, he felt himself uncommonly curious, and wondered what his brother had done to the girl _this_ time. From what he had seen of Sakura-san, and on the occasions that he found himself able to interact with her, she was fairly even-tempered, but not docile—thankfully nothing like that insipid Hyuuga he had the displeasure of working with on his last mission, the one who seemed to know how to do nothing more than stutter at every other word—and as she had worked with one Uzumaki Naruto for more than five years without yet committing treason and pinning him to the Hokage Mountain with various sharp instruments, she had a reservoir of patience.

Then again, he considered, Sasuke was trying on the best of days. And from what Itachi had gathered, her relationship to Uzumaki was quite different from her relationship with Sasuke.

Itachi, of course, said none of this aloud.

"But of course," he said instead, "you probably already know that, as he is on your team."

"Right," she said abruptly, and said nothing more. Itachi took the hint she had so bluntly given him, and made no attempt to press her for more. He was still curious, but it looked as though Sakura-san still needed to fill her near-empty grocery bags. Surely she had not come all this way for just _mikan_.

He accompanied her as she selected choice strawberries, peaches, and cherries. She assisted him with picking out tomatoes for Sasuke, and tried not to show his amusement when she handed him a few with worm holes. It was, all-in-all, a surprisingly pleasant time, and Itachi could not remember when he had last taken pleasure in completing a task that was usually so mundane.

On their way to pay the vendor, Sakura turned to him suddenly and asked, "Itachi-san, I have a question."

He said nothing in reply, and only waited for her to continue.

Sakura tried not to blush; it was not quite because Itachi was so handsome (though he was), but only because it had been a long time since she had felt the full force of a man's attention focused solely on her. She did not much interact with the men on other teams—Kiba and Chouji seemed nice enough, but Shino was all but a stranger. And while she had played a few games of shougi with Shikamaru, they were hardly more than acquaintances. The men on her own team seemed ever preoccupied with other things. Kakashi-sensei was focused on his porn, more than anything else, and Sasuke could not seem to bear looking at her for more than a second at most. Even then, he treated it like a chore. And Naruto...well, in this instance, Naruto did not count. He was miles and eons away from Itachi. And really, most times, he was more attentive to his ramen than he was to her.

Itachi, who, she suddenly remembered, was still waiting for her question.

"I was wondering...where do you buy your shampoo," she said suddenly.

Itachi, who had been dreading the words _"Please date me!"_ since his companion had started looking at him with that strange gleam in her eyes, surreptitiously released the breath he was holding. It would have been a pity to have to say no to her; Sakura-san seemed like a nice girl after all.

"Why do you ask," he said instead.

This time, Sakura could not hold back the blush.

"I apologize for being so forward, Itachi-sempai! If the question makes you uncomfortable, please forgive me and disregard it." She skittered away from him so quickly that Itachi almost laughed. He had not meant to mortify her; he was only curious as to why _she_ was curious.

"I did not say I was uncomfortable, Sakura-san. I only wondered why you were wondering." They were at the cashier's table now, and they moved to the side allow a man to go ahead of them in line. Sakura rather thought that this conversation would last a bit longer than she had anticipated and sorely regretted asking the question that had begun it all.

She sighed and looked down at her sandals. "It's just," she said, as she looked up at him again. "I only wondered because you have such lovely hair."

"I know," he said. "And you feel that yours is somehow lackluster in comparison?"

Her cheeks flushed in response.

"You needn't be rude, Itachi-sempai. My question was not meant to offend, though I can see how you might see it as an invasion of privacy, or perhaps, more accurately, as my overstepping our professional relationship. If you would rather not share, I'll just—"

She made a move to re-enter the line to pay, but before she could, Itachi responded.

"I apologize, Sakura-san. _My_ question was certainly not meant to offend your sensibilities. And anyway,_ I_ did not say that your hair was lackluster; I only inquired as to whether you thought it so. However, to answer your earlier question—about my shampoo—I do not buy it. My shampoo is hand-made, and is primarily composed of ingredients from my mother's garden."

Sakura's eyes widened.

"You _make _it—and your hair still looks like _that_?"

She clapped her hand over her mouth in horror. This time, Itachi could not suppress the small smile.

"I hope that was a compliment, Sakura-san."

"What was a compliment?"

Both Sakura and Itachi turned to look at the speaker, and Sakura felt her face warm again. Of all people, it would have to be _him_.

"Hello, _otouto_."

"Hello, Sasuke-kun."

Sasuke did not reply to their greetings.

"Why are you here with her," he asked his brother, not even looking at Sakura.

Itachi's smile grew more fixed on his face. He was well-aware that their mother had done quite a bit better than raising them in the boorish way that Sasuke was now acting.

"Sakura-san was shopping for fruits, Sasuke. This is a marketplace after all, and one generally does such things at a marketplace. I imposed myself on her solitude by accompanying her."

"It was no imposition, Itachi-sempai. You were excellent company," Sakura said, hastening to assure him. For a moment, Sasuke's eyes moved to rest on her, before looking at the medley of summer fruits in her basket. After a while, when no one spoke, Sakura began to feel the unwelcome tension returning. Talking to Itachi-sempai had alleviated it for a while, but the appearance of the source of her anxiety had caused the feelings to return at their fullest intensity. She moved away from the brothers, and back into the line, only looking over her shoulder to say her goodbyes.

"Thank you for the company, Itach-sempai. It was nice speaking with you again." Her eyes moved over to Sasuke, whose dark eyes were now trained on her figure.

"Goodbye, Sasuke-kun."

She approached the counter, paid for her fruits, and helped the workers bag her goods. Sakura was on her way out of the stall's tent, when she was suddenly stopped by the sound of someone calling her name. It was Itachi-sempai. Both he and Sasuke-kun were exactly where she had left them.

"If you let me know when you are available, I will make time to answer any questions you might have about the process."

After a while—she had almost forgotten what it was they were discussing after Sasuke's arrival—Sakura smiled brilliantly. Perhaps this would be a step in the right direction—the last time she had checked, hair was a woman's (or a man's, in Itach-sempai's case) crowning glory was it not?

"Thank you Itachi-sempai! I would very much appreciate it."

After another quick goodbye to both brothers, she left quietly and made her way back to her quiet apartment.

* * *

oh em gee. Of _course_ Itachi makes his own shampoo—nothing but the best, yes? And his mama's plants _are _the best, and if you disagree, you can take it up with him. Or something.

And Sasuke's kind of a bitch, as some of you (read: Iz) pointed out in your comments.

As with the first chapter, any and all comments would be very much appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

**title: **persuasion**  
pairing: **SasuSaku; for now, anyway. Hints of other unimportant background pairs later.**  
summary:** AU. Non-massacre. SasuSaku. It was, Sakura rather thought now, those two last words—"even me"—that had sent her feet walking out of the room without her even realizing it. Was he so promiscuous? More importantly, was she really so undesirable?  
**for: **pina and annie; who are lovely. :) I'll be on SATURDAY. :D

**notes / warnings: **HAY ALL. OMG LONG TIME NO SEE. 8D In the past few weeks, I have handed in my last paper, taken my last final, graduated college, and become a real member of the Real World, whatever that is. :) I'm on my way out but wanted to post first since it's been so long.

Though, actually, for me, this is pretty good time. Goodness knows how long _cherry apple wine_ has been waiting for an update. Not to mention _ever after_ and, um, _The Dating Game_. AHAHAHAHAHAHA—OK.

In any case, this chapter answers one question. Because I'd rather you all read the chapter rather than this A/N, I'll not actually answer it (as I ask them); rather, I'll give a hint! Hints are fun.

_q_. _How is it that Sasuke_—SASUKE—_has apparently become a manwhore?_

_h: _HAS HE REALLY? HM?

**edit:** I just made minor edits to dialogue; thank you to Pinaface who helped talk me through some of them. Hopefully Sasuke doesn't sound as weird as he did in this chapter's first incarnation.

**disclaimer: **Neither _Naruto_ nor _Pride and Prejudice _are mine; the former belongs to Masashi Kishimoto and Friends, and the latter, to...public domain, I guess. But before that, it belonged to the amazing Jane Austen**.**

* * *

Itachi rather thought that he had long been versed in the language of silence, and upon further reflection, decided that his fluency was hardly surprising.

While life in the Uchiha household could not quite be termed "staid", it was rather more formal than many of the other less affluent clans in the village. Their manners were starched and stiff like table linen, and the only time for music was at ceremonial affairs. The main family—of which Itachi and Sasuke were a part—dressed for dinner, and conversations were largely restricted to matters of state and business; the amiable was relegated to their mother's sitting room, and was implicitly forbidden to the men of the family. From their youths, both Itachi and Sasuke were groomed to be miniatures of their father, and as though Nature had agreed with this upbringing, she had made it so that both heirs grew to resemble him. Of the two, it was Itachi who more favored his father's appearance; Sasuke took care to remedy this perceived malady by successfully adopting—and then adapting—his father's stern disposition.

However, though it was Sasuke who had more accurately mimicked his father's attitude, it was Itachi who had inherited his aptitude. While both were to be called skilled, it was Itachi who had taken to life at the Academy in greater stride, and it was Itachi the teachers had taken to calling the "Uchiha Prodigy."

Their father had never been more pleased.

Sasuke, for his part, hid his bitterness with a fervent adoration for his older brother, and after a few years of sulking silence, had come to attribute Itachi's superiority to his earlier birth.

Now, Itachi thought wryly, as he unpacked the wares he had bought from the market, for all that Sasuke had been adept at speaking in the (non-)language of silence, he was remarkably unskilled in interpreting it, and more importantly, in _listening_ to it.

Itachi suspected that it was precisely Sasuke's lacking, his inability to understand silence—_and Sakura-san's silence in particular,_ he noted with amusement—that had made him so unbearably sulky on the way back from the market place.

Itachi rather thought it his brotherly duty to help Sasuke along the way.

"If I may say so, little brother," Itachi began, as he placed the vegetables in the crisper, "from what I gleaned in the conversation I engaged in before you arrived at the market, Sakura-san seems to be particularly displeased with you."

In reply, Itachi received little more than a careless shrug, and a decidedly preoccupied grunt.

"Sakura's likes or dislikes aren't my concern."

Itachi favored Sasuke with a glance, and in a rare moment of lightness, decided to tease him.

"Is that what she is, Sasuke? An 'affair' of yours? I was under the impression that you had grown out of that habit."

This time, there was no mistaking the snort. Inwardly, Itachi sneered at his brother's lack of refinement.

"If you are referring to that stupid rumor about my supposed promiscuity then we should end this conversation here," Sasuke said, as he considered the tomatoes still left in their packaging. "You and I are not unaware of the power of a malicious tongue. And _lies_ spread even more quickly if they are ones which people—particularly brainless young women of little consequence—wish to believe."

Itachi shook his head.

"Remind me again of how it came to be that my _little_ _brother_," he said, "came to be known as a rake—as a spoiler of women, a taker of virtue, a thief of hearts—"

"_Enough_," Sasuke said, now visibly irritated. "And you must remember it—half the fault belongs to you, after all."

"You wound me," Itachi said, his voice decidedly unrepentant.

"I wish to," Sasuke replied. "To remind you, the story began to circulate after the last half of our first escort mission together. We were charged with protecting the _damiyo_'s oldest sister."

"And we were specifically requested, if I remember correctly."

"You do," Sasuke said simply. "After she had approached you with the most indecent of proposals—"

"—was it really? Indecent, I mean. I remember considering it," Itachi interrupted lightly.

"You should have," Sasuke replied darkly. "It would have saved me the aggravation."

"But I interrupted you," Itachi said courteously. "Do continue, baby brother."

At the diminutive, Sasuke scowled.

"When you refused her advances, she approached _me_," Sasuke recounted distastefully.

"And you refused," Itachi prompted.

"Of course," came the reply. "I was appalled."

"Mortified," Itachi added helpfully.

"Disgusted," Sasuke corrected. "The woman was nearly twice my age—she was totally unsuitable."

"And of course, there was the small matter of her not having the right hair color—indeed, if I am not mistaken, you referred to the woman as '_chronically unattractive' _that first night. Isn't that right, _baby _brother?"

"No," Sasuke said shortly. "_You_ called her 'chronically unattractive.' _I _called her ugly."

"And so you should have! After all, dark brown is not nearly as interesting as _baby_ pink, hm?"

"Keep your implications to yourself," Sasuke said coldly, in a remarkable imitation of their father. (Itachi noted, with no small degree of amusement, that Sasuke had not denied the charge against him.)

"In any case," Sasuke said, as he continued the narrative, "our mission charge was so appalled by our refusal, that before she left, she told the entire public bath house that _I_ had propositioned _her_ and that she had been forced to refuse, despite my_ 'exquisite bone structure,'_ because I was off breaking houses with a different woman every night that I was guarding her, and that she was afraid of catching what she delicately termed a _'social disease_'."

"But what everyone else inferred to be an STD. Correct?"

"Exactly."

There was a brief moment of silence. And then—

"And thus," Itachi said, "your reputation as a libertine, a profligate—"

"_Enough,_" Sasuke all but snarled, squeezing the tomato in his hand so hard that it was near bursting.

"— a _seducer of young hearts, _a philanderer, and a _lecher_, was born," Itachi finished. He looked remarkably unintimidated by his brother's ire.

There was silence for a few moments as the brothers mutually agreed that it would be best to finish arranging the groceries before their mother and father arrived from the clan meeting. Afterward, as was their tradition, Itachi placed a kettle of tea to boil as Sasuke rummaged through the cabinets and then through the refrigerator for their snacks—mochi for Itachi, and his own preference, _sembei_ crackers.

"I do love that story," Itachi said, almost wistfully, as their tea seeped.

"Of course you do," Sasuke said blithely. "Though I still don't understand why I was the only one targeted—_you_ rejected her _first_, you know," Sasuke said, almost petulantly. He knew he sounded like a child, and hated Itachi for it.

"You needn't act like it has done you such a disservice, Sasuke. Except for the few girls in the village who seem to like their men..._experienced—_and, evidently, _riddled with disease—_your little fans have all but disappeared. And from what I hear," Itachi said, as he poured their tea, happy to finally broach the point he had been building towards since introducing the subject of his brother's rumored dalliances, "you have utilized these rumors for your own benefit at least once."

"Name one occasion," came the surly reply.

"Not a few days ago," Itachi said promptly. "At the missions office when you were speaking with Iruka-sensei about reassigning someone else to assist you in your mission. I believe that he had originally assigned Sakura-san to you, but you said that she was not tempting enough to please '_even_ you.' Faced with your supposed experience in the realm of women, and more importantly, what makes them _seductive, _it is my understanding that you made a fairly convincing argument, even if it was based on the _untrue_ notion that you are some sort of Lover Boy extraordinaire. You were, at the least, convincing enough to make Iruka-sensei consider your request for more than a moment which is more than can be said for most senior _jounin_. Of course, he still denied you, after all, but credit where credit is due and all—well played, Sasuke. "

A pause. Then—

"At least, that is what I heard of the event—I am not aware of the specifics," Itachi said.

"Really? Because your account of the matter is markedly specific, you know. Pay your spies extra—they've done well for you this time." Only the mild twitching of his brow betrayed Sasuke's irritation.

"I have my own suspicions as to your motives," Itachi said, ignoring Sasuke's barb. "But I will keep them to myself when I meet with her."

"Much obliged," Sasuke said dryly, as he closed his eyes, and sipped at his hot tea. He only barely suppressed the urge to visibly react at the reminder that Itachi would be meeting with Sakura at an undisclosed location at an undisclosed time to discuss something unknown to him. It would only encourage Itachi, who was, in Sasuke's estimation, far too amused to have anything but evil in mind.

"It might interest you to know, though," Itachi said, as across from him, "that Sakura-san is displeased with you. I don't know why, of course, as she did not tell me. I wonder whether she has spies as well."

Itachi paused. And then—

"Correct me if I am mistaken—"

"—as you so often are," Sasuke said, resigned to a discussion about that which he most wished to forget.

"—but," Itachi continued, unfazed by the interruption, "does Sakura-san not..._admire_ you?"

Sasuke's silence was the response Itachi expected; still, it did not make his younger brother's non-answer any less irritating.

"I see," Itachi said. "You know," he said, ignoring Sasuke's incoherent sound of rage, "if a woman is partial to a man, and does not endeavor to conceal it, he must, at the very least, acknowledge her affections, and then either happily reciprocate or gently reject them. _(1)_ To do otherwise is the height of incivility." Itachi glanced at Sasuke, satisfied by the way his younger brother's hand was gripping his tea cup so tightly that his knuckles were near-white. He decided it would be best to push him further, just so.

"Mother taught us better than incivility, Sasuke."

Sasuke scowled in annoyance; he had thought the matter closed, after all.

"How would _you_ know how Sakura feels? You talked to her for little more than five minutes."

"Not so, baby brother. Didn't you hear her? I accompanied her on her odyssey through the village grocery market—and, Sakura-san was even kind enough to say that I was _no imposition_. You remember that, don't you?" At Sasuke's look of measured rage, Itachi promptly sipped at his tea to hide a small grin.

"You _vex_ me," Sasuke said, with feeling.

"Someone has to when Sakura-san is not around," Itachi said in reply.

"I loathe you."

* * *

_(1)_ I took this line from _Pride and Prejudice _and adapted it_. _The original is, "If a woman is partial to a man, and does not endeavor to conceal it, he must find it out." It's from Chapter 6. :D

Just a homely Uchiha brothers scene. :3 Next up, if my calculations are correct—and they so rarely are, but let's try anyway—there will be the meeting with Itachi and Sakura, and hopefully some Sasuke POV.


	4. Chapter 4

**title: **persuasion  
**pairing: **SasuSaku; for now, anyway. Hints of other unimportant background pairs later.

**summary:** AU. Non-massacre. SasuSaku. It was, Sakura rather thought now, those two last words—"even me"—that had sent her feet walking out of the room without her even realizing it. Was he so promiscuous? More importantly, was she really so undesirable?

**for: **iz, who asked, pina, who helped, and annie, who's back.

**notes / warnings: **As I'm running late, late for an important day, I'll be brief today. Sort of. As a few asked for a translation of what went on last chapter, so here it is. :)

Basically, Sasuke isn't a manwhore; he got that reputation because of one of his spurned fangirls. The daughter of the damiyo—a.k.a. his spurned fangirl, a.k.a. one of his mission charges—cracked onto him, he (predictably) said no. She retaliated by telling everyone that _he _came onto _her_, and that _she _said no because he was off planting his flag on every woman that offered.

Long story short, Sasuke's not a whore.

I hope you all enjoy this next installment; thank Pinaface, because she pushed for it. :)

**disclaimer: **Neither _Naruto_ nor _Pride and Prejudice _are mine; the former belongs to Masashi Kishimoto and Friends, and the latter, to...public domain, I guess. But before that, it belonged to the amazing Jane Austen**.**

* * *

True to his word, Itachi called on Sakura exactly three days after their conversation in the marketplace. It was just past lunch time at the hospital when he had swept in and asked for her at the receptionist's desk. Sakura reflected, with a mingled sense of amusement and exasperation, that the office gossips would have fodder for days—particularly when one considered Itachi's exalted status as one of the village's most eligible bachelors.

After he had found her nursing a salad she had purchased from the hospital cafeteria, and then exchanging the expected pleasantries, he wondered aloud whether Sakura was free to speak with him now, and moreover would she very much mind his company during her lunch hour? She replied that it would be her own pleasure, that she was always looking for intelligent conversation—as her hectic hospital shifts generally did not allow her such luxuries, and her time spent with Team 7 was time spent with Kakashi-sensei who was a pervert_, _Sasuke-kun who was selectively mute, and Naruto who was Naruto, and really, that said it all, didn't it?—and that in short, she would be delighted to spend her hour with him.

Before their conversation drifted to other things, it was mutually decided that their next meeting would take place on the following Sunday. They would meet for a leisurely breakfast at the new teahouse that had opened in Konoha's shopping district. The excellent pastries they served, Itachi reminded her, were not to be believed. He had, he informed her, been invited to the dry run as a form of thanks from the owner.

"I rid him of some undesirables on my way home from a mission; a party of ruffians insisted on delaying the construction of his storefront so I..._persuaded_ them to leave the workers alone." Itachi said after taking a sip of the green tea he had ordered. He was all apathy, and Sakura, who was usually mindful of the social niceties, could not resist teasing him a little.

"That was thoughtful of you, Itachi-sempai."

He favored Sakura with a slight nod.

"I know. Though, I must confess, it was for my benefit as well as the owner's. The mission had been a taxing one, and the loud grating voices annoyed me."

"And I'm sure that the fact that their disturbance happened to be delaying the construction of a new teahouse with famed _dango_ had absolutely nothing to do with your decision, no," Sakura said, almost playfully, thinking back to the older Uchiha's purported love of sweets.

Instead of denying it as she expected, Itachi had surprised her.

"So you are aware of that, then," he replied, neither confirming nor denying the rumor. "I must confess, I am surprised Sakura-san—I had not pegged you for a member of my ever-growing fan club. Are you also subscribed to the monthly newsletter? I am told that they publish a new list of 'facts' about me in every issue."

"Hardly, Itachi-sempai," she replied dryly. "I'm afraid you aren't my type."

"Oh," he said blankly. "Too _old_ for you, perhaps? Oh no, I'd forgotten—you like them tall, pale, and _brooding_."

Sakura, resigned that the conversation would come to their mutual acquaintance at some point, did not avoid the implication.

"If you are referring to Sasuke-kun—"

"And you know I am," Itachi put in courteously.

"—then I have to say, he doesn't spend _all_ his time brooding like you're implying."

"Oh, of course not," Itachi said wryly. "Sometimes he pouts, too."

Sakura sighed, and speared a carrot from her long-ignored salad. "Itachi-sempai...you know that wasn't what I meant."

"I must say, Sakura-san, that I don't quite understand your loyalty to my brother. To my knowledge, he has not done much to deserve it."

"Sasuke-kun is my teammate," Sakura said, as though it were that simple, as though it justified her protection. And perhaps for her, Itachi thought, it was. Suddenly, he found himself envious of his brother, of Naruto-kun, even of Kakashi-san. Sakura seemed a fine ally to have, and _he, _Itachi, wouldcertainly think twice before spurning her in the way at which his baby brother seemed to excel.

"He does not always hurry to acknowledge that connection," he said aloud. "Forgive me if I am being too forward, Sakura-san, but I am aware of the confrontation he had in the mission room. That is," he amended, "I am aware of—and as a man, offended by—the temper tantrum he threw when he found out that you were to be his partner for an espionage mission of a...delicate nature."

Itachi gauged her reaction from behind his cup of tea, noted the telltale slump of her shoulders, the sudden sigh that passed her lips, the fatigue that seemed to overcome her, at the reminder.

"Oh," Sakura said, her voice small and soft. "You heard about that?" At his continued silence, she sighed again. "Well, it hardly matters anymore. I got a missive the other night that told me that another, more suitable team had recently come back from border patrol, and that consequently, it was being reassigned. I wasn't given a reason, but well...anyway. I'm sure Sasuke has gotten the news by now."

"He has," Itachi confirmed, remembering Sasuke's black mood. "He was disagreeable nearly all of yesterday. As you're probably aware, he abhors losing any opportunity to show the world at large how skilled he is."

"He's really not that bad," Sakura insisted weakly. "At least, not with Team 7, anyway." It was a lie, and Itachi did not hesitate to tell her so.

"Naruto-kun and his recent third-degree burns beg to differ, I'm sure."

At that, Sakura snorted. "Those two bounce off each other—or well, their unmitigated rages do, anyway."

"Right," Itachi said, considering the tea leaves left at the bottom of his cup. "Sakura-san, if I might push you on the subject, have you really forgiven my brother for the comments he made?"

For a moment, Itachi wondered if he had offended her. But she looked at him, smiled, and he was somehow reassured.

"Honestly," she said, lowering her voice as though to impart some great secret, "not really. I mean—I should I guess, it's stupid not to. Not to mention, petty. But, I mean—I could forgive his pride had he not mortified mine._ (1)_ Just because he's apparently had quite a bit of experience with women, he thinks he can insult me?"

"You and your femininity, you mean," Itachi corrected her helpfully. "Do not be so quick to forgive offenses against you."

Sakura quirked a brow at him. "Why are you not telling me to _forgive and forget_? Sasuke-kun's your brother after all."

"And," Itachi asked politely. "I am waiting for the point of your observation."

At that, Sakura had to laugh.

"Never mind. Anyway, with all this talk of fan-clubs and missions, I never got to ask you about your shampoo, sempai. And the lunch hour's nearly done. Don't think I've forgotten—if you are still open to telling me your secrets to great hair, I would be more than happy to learn them."

Itachi stood when Sakura did, and nodded. "Of course, Sakura-san. It is the least I can do after you allowed me the pleasure of your company today. Until Sunday, then?"

Sakura smiled.

"Until Sunday," she echoed.

—

Sasuke wondered whether he was being punished.

Since the conversation—argument—he had with Iruka-sensei at the mission office a few days ago, Sakura had not long left his thoughts. She was the recurring theme in his life, Sasuke reflected; after the botched attempt to remove her from a mission he thought unsuited to a woman of her skills, he had happened upon his brother speaking to her in the marketplace about something which, to him, still remained a mystery (a mystery that he had long decided that he _would_ investigate). After, he had had to endure a conversation _revolving around her_—and moreover, about what supposed _feelings he had_ _for her_—with Itachi. Itachi, whom, Sasuke knew, loved nothing more than to exercise his passive-aggressive tendencies on him. And then, to cap off the week, he had been summarily removed from the mission that had started it all.

Sasuke had, in an effort to avoid introspection, trained on his own. With his usual object of rage on a trip with his mentor, Kakashi on a solo mission, and his brother missing (_probably off gallivanting somewhere in the village_, Sasuke thought sourly), there was precious little else he could do. But even he had neither the stamina nor the desire to push himself past the realm of consciousness. At some point, he had to stop.

And so, he had.

Unfortunately, he discovered that fatigue did nothing to remove his teammate's face from where it seemed to have entrenched itself in his mind.

Why would she not leave his thoughts? Sasuke could not remember ever thinking so much about her, but considering the way she had recently come to resurface in various aspects of his life, it seemed inevitable. He liked it better when she was his teammate, or alternately, his healer; when her place in his life was relegated working together on team missions, undergoing physicals at the hospital, or training together when their schedules allowed.

To think so much of a woman, Sasuke discovered to his chagrin, meant to consider parts of her that had never before mattered.

* * *

(1) Adapted from Chapter Five of _Pride and Prejudice_.

And, _oh,_ the implications of that last line.

Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! Please let me know what you think of this chapter, too! :)


	5. Chapter 5

**title: **persuasion

**pairing: **SasuSaku; for now, anyway. Hints of other unimportant background pairs later.

**summary:** AU. Non-massacre. SasuSaku. It was, Sakura rather thought now, those two last words—"even me"—that had sent her feet walking out of the room without her even realizing it. Was he so promiscuous? More importantly, was she really so undesirable?

**for: **iz who asked, and pina who pushed.

**notes / warnings: **Again, this is ridiculous and late. Mostly because I am ridiculous, and almost-always late.

The plot's coming—this is the last filler chapter, I swear. I did include a nice little OTP moment though. :3

**disclaimer: **Neither _Naruto_ nor _Pride and Prejudice _are mine; the former belongs to Masashi Kishimoto and Friends, and the latter, to...public domain, I guess. But before that, it belonged to the amazing Jane Austen.

* * *

It was, perhaps, an arrogance on her part, but Sakura had long prided herself on the ease with which her features seemed to school themselves into a mask of amiability under even the most taxing of conditions. The ability had probably not, as she had once hopefully surmised, developed as a natural consequence of her growth as a shinobi, but neither could she accurately classify it as a _completely_ conscious affectation on her part. Her face, she decided, had simply—and gradually—learned to relieve itself of discomfort without her consent. It was almost entirely out of her hands.

Consequently, Sakura was unsurprised to discover—with the aid of the glass window at Konoha's newest sweet shop—that she was, at least outwardly, smiling serenely when one Uchiha Itachi arrived at their meeting place with one Uchiha Sasuke in tow. (Inwardly, she felt Inner Sakura's left eye twitch.)

"Hello, Itachi-sempai," Sakura said in greeting, pushing her now-lukewarm cup of tea to the side. "And hello to you too, Sasuke-kun."

Itachi—who had, upon seeing her, imperceptibly raised the corners of his lips in what could almost be called a smile—pulled up the chair directly in front of her, which left Sasuke standing awkwardly beside their table. To an outsider, he looked at once a part of, and implicitly excluded from, the gathering.

"I hope you don't mind the extra company, Sakura-san," Itachi said, by way of greeting. "I apologize both for my foolish little brother's impertinence, as well as my own inability to give you more notice of this slight change of plans. However, I must also confess that it was quite beyond my control: the moment that Sasuke discovered the nature of my appointment today—and particularly, the identity of the person with whom I was meeting—he insisted he be allowed to accompany me."

Sasuke emitted what Sakura could comfortably classify as a "growl" in response.

"I did not _insist _on anything! You _all but dragged _me here!"

"Details," Itachi said, waving the distinction away with ease. "It was not as though I trussed you up and pulled you along with me—you could easily have left at any time."

Sakura, who heard Sasuke's dissatisfaction with the present state of affairs keenly in his protests—and who was, truth be told, more than a little irritated with the way that the younger Uchiha had yet to acknowledge her presence—chose this moment to say:

"Please do not feel obligated to stay, Sasuke-kun. If there's somewhere else you need to be, or something else you need to do, feel free to leave. If Itachi-sempai will permit me to speak for him"—and a nod from her sempai insisted he would _not _mind—"neither he nor I would think you rude for it."

It was, Sakura decided, at once gratifying and trying to be the sole focus of Sasuke's dark eyes. He had yet to speak to her, had yet to verbally acknowledge that it was _he_ who had, intentionally or otherwise, intruded on what was to be a meeting between two new friends. Moreover it was the first time she had seen him since The Incident in the mission office—The Incident which, she remembered, he had yet to apologize for. And then again, why would he? For all she knew, he had yet to be informed of her ill-timed entrance.

Sakura shook herself free from her ruminations just in time to hear the tail-end of Itachi's own assurances.

"...assure you that Sakura-san and I will be _quite_ fine should you decide to leave. We have much to discuss, after all. And as you have repeatedly told me, you have no taste for the..._offerings_ of this cafe. You've no desire for sweets of any sort, isn't that right? Hm?"

Though she did not quite understand what Itachi meant by that—and neither did she consider it her place to ask—Sakura did not miss the almost sly, side-glance that Itachi threw in her direction at those last words, and neither did she miss Sasuke's instantaneous reaction to them.

"I think I'll stay," he said softly, his fists clenched at his side. Without another word, Sasuke pulled a chair up to Sakura's left side. Unlike Itachi, who had pulled his own chair out as far as it would go in order to seat himself, Sasuke's movements were spare. He sat down in his seat with little aplomb, and despite his obvious desire to project an image of relaxed nonchalance, Sakura's eyes—long used to the enterprise of observing him—noted his stiff posture. Sasuke looked uncomfortable, and ill-at-ease. Sakura made yet another attempt to assure him that she would not take it as an insult should he decide to leave.

"Sasuke-kun, I know you weren't fond of sweets, and from what I can tell, this cafe has very little by way of real food, so if you're hungry, maybe you'd be better off finding Naruto and getting him away from all that ramen. It can't be very healthy, and maybe if you make it a _challenge_ or something, he'll listen and eat something besides—"

"That idiot can handle himself," he said, not quite looking at her.

"Are you sure—"

"Do you want me to leave," Sasuke asked gruffly. "If you do, then just say so. It's annoying when you babble like this."

Sakura was too surprised to be hurt by his curt words. "I was just trying to make sure you really wanted to be here, that's all. You look like you're being tortured, and I know that this isn't your kind of place. You've never been much for frou-frou pastry shops, and I was just—"

"Things can change," Sasuke said. His earlier gruffness had disappeared, and he was looking at her again, this time with an emotion that she could not quite place.

Sakura was confused. It had been a little less than a full week since the last time she had seen Sasuke, and a little over two weeks since she had last seen him eat a full meal (tomatoes and onigiri in a bento that his mother had made for him). Even then, at that last meal, Sasuke had been disdainful of Sakura's artfully crafted leaf-shaped _mochi_. "Not in so short a time, Sasuke-kun. Are you telling me you like sweets now?"

Sasuke sighed in a manner that suggested his irritation.

"I don't _dislike_ sweets, Sakura. I simply choose not to indulge in them. They provide no sustenance; they are, as foodstuffs go, useless, and the problems they result in—obesity, tooth decay, just to name two—are, in a word, _annoying_."

"And you actually _think_ about these things," Sakura wondered aloud. "I mean, really truly _contemplate _them_. _Like on any ordinary day, you sit there, munching on your healthy balanced meal of rice and pickles and grilled fish, you are contemplating the evils of delicious syrup-soaked _dango_? And have you ever actually _tried _sweets? Or are all your prejudices based on nutritional facts?"

"You mistake me, Sakura. I don't actively _think_ about the disadvantages of _any _particular food group," Sasuke said, almost wearily. "And, no, I have never had any occasion—or desire, or _reason_—to try sweets."

"It is particularly incumbent on those who never change their opinion, to be secure of judging properly at first. _(1)_ In other words, in order judge sweets as unappealing, foolish little brother, you must first have _had_ sweets," Itachi said, earning himself a glare.

Sakura nodded in agreement. "Very wise, Itach-sempai. And, Sasuke-kun, if that's so, if you _don't _actively think about the evils contained in say, strawberry-frosted cupcakes, then what stops you from eating them in particular? The mere possibility that they'll somehow impede your performance as a shinobi of the Leaf? No one, I'm sure, has told you to go and throw yourself face-first into some innocent bystander's delicious cupcake batter, but what stops you from enjoying cupcakes in moderation?"

Itachi—whom, Sakura was afraid to admit, she had nearly forgotten about during the course of her exchange with Sasuke—cleared his throat meaningfully.

"Yes, Sasuke, do tell—what keeps you from having some sweet _sugar _every so often? Personally, I am of the opinion that such an aversion is indicative of a tendency toward the unnatural. On the other hand, I am, as you know, partial to dango—_hanami_ is my favorite time of year—and thus, by my own estimation, perfectly normal," he said, thoroughly enjoying the growing pink flush on Sakura's cheeks almost as much as he relished the nearly homicidal rage in his baby brother's eyes. "But right, I've gone ahead of myself—_why_ is it that you turn down Mother's desserts, Sasuke?"

"Clearly, you've neglected to wash the inside of your ears again, _niisan_," Sasuke snapped. "As I said earlier, the merits of sweets are not a subject that I've ever truly thought about at length. However, I am not unwilling to try sweets at some point in the future—it is merely a matter of timing."

"Well," Itachi drawled, again giving Sakura that curious sideways glance, "there are some sweets here. That is, at this moment, we are in a present that lends itself to the sampling of sweets. Why not try some now?"

For a moment, there was total silence. Sakura eyed both brothers with ill-concealed apprehension, ready and willing to separate the two should the conversation—which had, in her opinion, been going so well until just a few minutes ago—degenerate into a brawl. _Or, _Sakura corrected herself wryly, _considering Itachi's high-falutin' language_, _it would come down to katana-at-dawn,_ _or something equally ridiculous._

Finally, Sasuke broke the silence. "I," he said through gritted teeth, "am not _ready_ to have sweets, yet." His eyes were fixed on Itachi's smirk. Then, he released the tense breath he seemed to be holding. "But, I will someday. Soon."

For the second time that day, Sakura found herself on the receiving end of Sasuke's gaze. She had an inkling that there was a veiled conversation she had not been privy to, a subtext underneath the brothers' words that she could not decipher. It was maddening, but it could not be helped. For now, Sasuke, it seemed, was waiting for a response.

"I'll be waiting for that day, Sasuke-kun," Sakura said, with a bright smile. She found herself hoping that that had been the right thing to say, and it seemed that it had been, for in the next moment, Sasuke turned to her and said:

"Sakura...thank you."

* * *

_(1) _Chapter 18, or thereabouts.

8D

Sasuke is SUCH the drama queen, no? So am I.

Please let me know what you think! :)


	6. Chapter 6

**title: **persuasion

**pairing: **SasuSaku; for now, anyway. Hints of other unimportant background pairs later.

**summary:** AU. Non-massacre. SasuSaku. It was, Sakura rather thought now, those two last words—"even me"—that had sent her feet walking out of the room without her even realizing it. Was he so promiscuous? More importantly, was she really so undesirable?

**notes:** Better late than never? :) I know, I know—considering my absence, this is quite short, but quality is better than quantity? Also, still love SasuSaku. Yes.

**disclaimer: **Neither _Naruto_ nor _Pride and Prejudice _are mine; the former belongs to Masashi Kishimoto and Friends, and the latter, to...public domain, I guess. But before that, it belonged to the amazing Jane Austen.

* * *

Sasuke saw Sakura less often after the luncheon meeting, but he could not say he was sorry for it. His recent revelation - the realization that she had, of late, crossed his mind far too frequently - prevented him from mourning the loss of her company. Sakura, inadvertently or otherwise, had made herself something of a constant in his life, and until the incident at the mission's office, he had regarded her as an acquaintance, a teammate. It would, he thought, be best that he maintain his distance—his routine—away from her until he could decide what space she occupied in his life. This, he decided, was for her own good, as well as for his own peace.

Despite what the villagers said, Sasuke considered himself far from unfeeling. If anyone he deemed worthy of a response had ever asked - and no one ever had - Sasuke would have replied that he felt too keenly—reacted too quickly—to emotional stimuli. Moreover, while he would never go so far as to style himself the most empathetic (nor was he, some would argue, a particularly _sympathetic_) man in the village, Sasuke was, nonetheless, fairly sensitive to the feelings of the people he considered close to him.

Haruno Sakura, he decided, was one of those people.

Consequently, he was no stranger to her affection for him, was not unaware of the lingering glances and hushed sighs she had, in past years, bestowed upon him with alarming frequency. As a child, the extra scrutiny had been vaguely menacing. Sasuke remembered wondering why she stared at him with such rapt attention. He had spent many an afternoon in front of his mother's vanity table, staring at the lines of his face and searching desperately for some special mark that distinguished him from all the other little boys in the daycare classroom.

As an adolescent, he had thought such trifles irritating; how could Sakura reach her potential, distracted as she was by something as inconsequential as the way his _eyelashes _brushed against his cheek? (Young girls, Sasuke had learned, were wont to find the silliest of things endearing.) He had spent over half his lunch hours in tussles with Naruto for the sole purpose of marring whatever facial feature she (and her friends) felt like immortalizing in their terribly-written poetry that day. Sasuke did not even want to remember the conversations he had been unfortunate enough to overhear; he had learned quite early in life that the imagination of any girl in the grips of "true love" was very rapid; it jumped from admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment. _(1)_

Her advances had (thankfully) tapered off after she had been selected to be Tsunade's protege, and after he left on his own training missions, Sakura had begun to bloom. The invitations for dates, once delivered with such enthusiasm, gradually decreased until one day they stopped altogether. After a long day of sparring, Sasuke no longer found her homemade _bento_ lunches (which, he grudgingly admitted, were second only to his mother's) waiting at the training grounds he frequented. And while she still smiled that same small, slightly bashful smile, when she saw him, Sasuke now wondered if it were out of habit than out of any particularized, specifically _romantic_ affection.

Then again, he reasoned, she _did_ spend an unhealthy amount of time blushing in his company. And if his brother were to be believed, Sakura _had _thrown something of a tantrum when she had overheard (and misconstrued) his refusal to accept her as his partner on the escort mission they had been assigned.

And she _had _said she would wait for him.

In any event, Sasuke thought to himself, it would far better to ruminate on such matters without her presence as a distraction.

—

It was but a scant three days later—during the aftermath of what should have been Team 7's alternate-Tuesday training practices, but what had, with Naruto's absence and Kakashi's tardiness, turned into a private, somehow more intimate sparring session—that Sasuke found himself face-to-face with his pink-haired teammate.

It was, moreover, at this moment, that he fully realized the change in her.

Gone was the Haruno Sakura of years past, the girl who paled at the sight of blood, and tittered over the possibility of sharing his air. In her place was an almost-stranger. She had not even blushed, Sasuke noted, when he had taken his shirt off at the beginning of her examination.

Now, he watched as she healed his scrapes and scratches with the lightest touch, careful not to linger. She was, he realized, the epitome of cool professionalism; there had been no instance of suspect touches, and at no time did he wonder whether she was purposely taking her time in assessing his condition. Her fine eyes had seen everything at the first glance.

"I've repaired what damage there was, Sasuke-kun," Sakura said. "You should have ducked before that last punch—I'm fairly certain I broke a few ribs."

He grunted, and slipped his shirt on over his head. "Get your things together. I'll walk you home."

Sakura supposed it was his roundabout way of showing his thanks, and in another time, she would have been thrilled—would have happily accepted, content to remain in his company for the additional twenty or so minutes his offer would have allotted her. Now, in the wake of her own exhaustion, Sakura wanted nothing more than to sink into a hot bath, and wash the remnants of the day's spar away. Only the thought of peaches, ripe and sweet, threatened to distract her. She would stop at the market first. Perhaps she could even find a bottle of that sparkling plum wine Ino had been gushing over a few weeks ago.

Sakura stood from where she had been crouching, only slightly aware of Sasuke's eyes on her. He was, she realized, still waiting for a response.

"Another time, Sasuke-kun, though I do thank you for the offer. In any case, I don't think I'll be going home quite, yet."

"We have training tomorrow," he said, his eyes still fixed on her. Sakura could hear the surprise in his voice at her refusal. "It would not serve you well to stay out late, tonight."

"I'll only be out as long as it will take me to find the freshest peaches, and the sweetest plum wine, at the market tonight. Then it's off to bed for me," Sakura said, resenting the words even as they left her lips. _Why, oh why, do I always feel that I need to explain myself to him_, she wondered ruefully.

Sasuke huffed, and stood up from where he had been sitting.

"If you'll hurry up, I'll go with you."

Sakura huffed, now truly irritated. "You really needn't bother, Sasuke-kun. I'm perfectly capable of making it home on my own. I would not be very good company this evening." _And neither would you_, she added silently.

Without warning, Sasuke turned pinned her with a searching, not entirely amiable, look.

"You were fine enough company for my brother, weren't you?"

He slipped past her silently, leaving her to follow after him.

—

Despite the late hour, the markets were still heady with the energy of the day upon their arrival. Sasuke muttered a few choice words about his intention to purchase goods for his mother, and left Sakura at the fruit stalls with express orders to await his return before leaving.

This left her a few moments to reflect upon the strange happenings of the day. Why, she wondered, after everything that had happened, was Sasuke so insistent on accompanying her to the market? On her _errands_, no less. It was all so very domestic, so very droll, and so—so very dangerous.

It was the sort of thing, Sakura thought somewhat wistfully as she picked through peaches, that a man and a woman did, not together_, _but _Together_—the sort of thing a woman might get used to, if she were not the careful sort.

It was, she thought further, precisely the sort of thing that she had no business doing with Uchiha Sasuke.

"Are you nearly finished? That peach in you hand has been turned over so often that it is probably bruised now."

Sakura, who had been lost in thought, was startled by the sound of her Subject's voice so close to her ear. She recovered admirably, and offered him a smile that any onlooker might have taken for carefree.

"You should go on ahead, Sasuke-kun. I will be a bit longer, and I can certainly find my own way home. I would rather not have you wait for me."

He was unmoved.

"All the same, I will wait for you. If you are truly worried about being an inconvenience, then I suppose that it would be best for you to stop wasting time by talking to me, and finish your shopping. Like it or not," Sasuke said, in a tone that dared her to _not_, "I will wait for you here, and then, I will see you safely home. I watched while my _brother_," he continued, his lip curling just enough to emphasize his disdain, "accompanied you through the market a few days ago—many of the choices you made that night were substandard at best."

Sakura wished fervently that she had already purchased the wine Ino had been so enthusiastic over—mostly so that she could happily break the bottle across her companion's condescending face. She felt what goodwill she had gained during the cafe outing with Itachi, and this singular, infuriating, devastating man in front of her, vanish into the ether. His _thank you_, she thought, could not be enough tonight. Tomorrow, she would wake and wait again. But tonight—_just_ tonight—covered in the day's dust and filled with her own hurt, she would pause.

"I apologize," she began heatedly, "if I have kept you from some important appointment. However, I do remember insisting that I would be perfectly capable of finding my own way. Please do not feel that you are doing me any favors by standing beside me like an overgrown watchdog, when all you have been doing—besides, of course, insulting me—"

"I have _not_ been—" Sasuke interrupted, before he, too, was interrupted.

"—is scaring the fruit vendors into stunned silence. And _furthermore,_" she said, her voice suddenly softer, "I do beg your indulgence, but the next time you have..._doubts_ about _me,_ or my _skillset_, or _the perceived lack thereof_, I do ask, as your teammate, or as whoever, or whatever I might have been to you once, to please tell _me_ first, instead of broadcasting it to the mission room at large where all-and-sundry might be privy to how little you think of me." Now, _Sasuke-kun_," Sakura said, her voice tired and somehow diminished, "I do bid you _goodnight_."

She stalked away from him without further word, leaving him staring after her and wondering where, exactly, the evening had gone wrong.

* * *

_(1) _Adapted from Chapter 6 of_ Pride and Prejudice_

What to say, but that I got lost on the road of life? Please enjoy this late offering.


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